


Here We Go Again

by missbeizy



Category: Glee
Genre: Blow Jobs, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-22
Updated: 2014-03-22
Packaged: 2018-01-16 13:43:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1349494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missbeizy/pseuds/missbeizy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Foam party blowjob.  <a href="https://31.media.tumblr.com/71b351bc1d5f33c0a0c4e4d4c84c96dd/tumblr_n2t718aQvS1qe476yo3_1280.jpg">Spoiler related for 5x13</a>.  Sort of.  More like just visual spoilers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Here We Go Again

"Well, this is nothing like the last time," Blaine observes rather casually as Kurt slams a broom across the closet door, panting from the dash down the hall, gangling and uncoordinated because, well, he's kind of graceless at times, but also because _foam_ , and Blaine on his knees, and these things don't combine very well. He sort of gets it against the doorknob, and sort of doesn't, and neither of them care.

"Last time," Kurt breathes, falling back against the particle board as Blaine kisses his hips frantically.

"In the warehouse, with the Warblers--"

"I remember last time," Kurt says, shoving his fingers through Blaine's hair. Blaine knows that he likes it this way, right now, because he can get to the scalp and draw Blaine in without digging through the usual gel crust and this means so many more seconds doing what they want to be doing. "I remember every second of last time."

"Me too," Blaine pants.

It's kind of gross, because everything tastes like soap and also, he doesn't care, like, at all, because he can see Kurt's thigh hairs, and Kurt's dick jutting sideways against the hip of his soaked pants, can see every ridge and dip and the head swollen up and he can't think at all, even though half of their friends are like, three feet away.

Blaine mouths Kurt through his pants, lashing his tongue along the thick vein-ribbed shaft all the way to the tip.

"Gas pains," Kurt blurts, giggling hysterically, and then jerks his belt open, and the button below it, and he doesn't even have to lower the zip before his cock rises half-way out of it. Blaine makes a noise like starvation or dying or both and buries his face in Kurt's lap.

"Baby penguin," he murmurs, fingers sliding in all the wet, in the foam as it dissolves, around Kurt's thighs, desperate for a hold because he wants to do something but everything is so slippery that it's a challenge. He's flailing, and then Kurt reaches down and holds himself by the base of his cock and Blaine by the crown of his head.

"I want to fuck your mouth," he announces, cheeks blown red, confidence in every line of his long, lean body.

Blaine groans, sits back on his heels and looks up at fiance and thinks with a certain amount of mental instability because he might actually die if Kurt's cock isn't in his mouth like two minutes ago, _sexy faces_.

Kurt feeds the thick weight of his cock into Blaine's mouth without further preamble, his face twisting up in pleasure as Blaine closes his lips and sucks. He pulls out, and pushes back in, just like that, several times, savoring that barely replicated first time sensation of pressure until Blaine can't stand it. He loves Kurt taking over, but he needs more.

He pulls off with a wet pop and says, "Do it, come on."

Kurt smiles, cheeky and one-sided, and traces the beautiful, swollen, pink circle of Blaine's glistening, open mouth with the tip of his cock, lets Blaine's tongue chase him, lets Blaine's face go red with wanting him, "Do what?"

It's embarrassing, but Kurt knows that it turns him on to be encouraged to say, "F-fuck my mouth. Just do it. Just--come in my mouth, please?"

There's banging on the door, and the noise of people singing at their backs, and the slightly medicinal smell of foam when Kurt holds him by his hair and fills his mouth.

"Touch yourself," Kurt breathes, as his hips begin to rock rhythmically. "I want you to come with me." Shaking, Blaine takes himself out of his pants. It's not difficult to split his focus--Kurt is using his mouth without any of his assistance. He closes his eyes, but Kurt tugs his hair and adds, "Look at me."

It's too much. They've been hard too long--from the dancing to the snuggling in the corner and now to the broom closet, and Blaine can't hold back. The almost-rude plunge of Kurt's cock between his lips, tapping the back of his throat, keeping him from breathing or swallowing properly, making spit drip down his chin. It's filthy and it's turning him on, especially when Kurt's head falls back, when his shoulders tense, when his pelvis begins hammering forward faster than Blaine's heartbeat is pounding, when those gorgeous thighs go tense under Blaine's fingers.

He moans around the cock in his mouth and pulls at himself and feels the tingle and pressure in his balls, up the shaft of his cock, and god he thinks there's foam still in between his fingers, and Kurt is using him, and--

Kurt's tongue is shoved just there against the corner of his cheek, his pulse visibly throbbing at his throat, and Blaine stares, wide-eyed, when he slides his slick fingers around the back of Blaine's neck and pulls him in, edging into his throat, watching, watching, watching his cock disappear into Blaine's mouth.

"Make me come," he whispers, lost, on the edge, trembling and thrusting erratically, "god, Blaine, make me come."

Blaine tightens his lips. Hollows his cheeks, lifts his chin so that the angle is easier, and actually doesn't breathe for the twenty seconds that it takes Kurt to come, slamming against his jaw and chin, his balls tight and swollen and spit-smeared. He can feel the shaft pulse in his mouth, and swallows because he has to if he wants to breathe again, warm viscous rushes that stick to the back of his throat in the way that only semen can.

He doesn't even feel it, not really, when he spills over his own hand, but he's an unstrung mess against Kurt's hips after, panting and licking over Kurt's shrinking cock like he doesn't know what to do with himself now.

"Better foam party?" he asks, giddy from the stale air, and from not breathing, and from Kurt beautiful above him.

"Better foam party," Kurt replies, laughing, fingertips on Blaine's cheeks.


End file.
